ALL NOVEL 90. Flight Practice?
There were no numerical measurements on the design Vyra gave to Balig. The city districts and important buildings were labeled, but that was all that could be said for it. The Dwarf had noticed lines in the ground which seemed to correspond to the outlines in the design. Those helped him get some sense of the scaling.
The buildings only showed the horizontal area they would occupy, with no further information supplied about height or interiors. The streets were rather wide--he thought it a waste of space, unless they planned to let even more bizarre Monsters stroll through here. The street was also split into wide and thin sections for no discernible reason.
Several of the usual facilities were missing, such as a courier office, a church, or an orphanage. In contrast, there were some unnecessary buildings taking up space, like one that was roughly translated to him as a “medicine hall.” Did the chief intend to shove all her apothecaries and healers into one building? The competition between people of the same occupation would surely lead to various conflicts. And what exactly was the thought process behind leaving the library in a place where any person off the street could enter?
No wonder she wanted a descendant to look this over. She’s probably never seen a proper city before, and is designing this based on hearsay.
It was like the attempt of an intelligent, but woefully inexperienced child.
Well, that person is already a terror on the battlefield. If she could develop a city to that same standard, how would the rest of us live? That said, should I sabotage this design?
The Orc Lord may be intelligent, but without any comparison, she wouldn't know if he gave bad advice. Perhaps he could find some way to incorporate a flaw in a key area. He may have been exiled from Dwarven lands, but that was the result of a small group’s efforts. He still held kind feelings for his fellow countrymen. If war broke out between Orcs and Dwarves, he would feel inclined to side with his people. So, knowing about a weakness in the infrastructure would be reassuring.
Balig started writing his more constructive notes on the design in Dwarvish. Then, he took a close look at the North District.
The underground river here flows to the West, and the water will be drawn from wells at various places coming down it. If I could convince her that the fields would get better sun along the North wall, and have the industrial facilities moved to the East, the water would get contaminated.
The Dwarf made an uncomfortable face, hesitated, then took up his pen.
***
“The chief is gone so much these days.”
“Right? I'm so bored. When are lessons going to start again?”
“There aren't enough tablets either, since Fiara uses them all,” an Orc flicked his ears as he chatted with two High Orcs.
“But it would be hard to defeat so many Fomors if she didn't go along, right?” a third High Orc who noticed the conversation joined in.
An Orc was trotting past their group and stopped to call out, “Hey, Lord Rigdam and the child lady are doing something fun again.”
Over a little ways away, a group had gathered, so the chatting Orcs moved in that direction.
“Ah, of course it’s another game only the child lady will win at,” one of the Orcs muttered.
Two Orcs seemed to be tasked with holding Lord Rigdam’s spear, while a third tried to walk under it. If you touched the spear, you lost. If your hands or knees touched the ground, you lost. It was obvious that shorter people had an advantage, so the High Orcs were competing among themselves for second place, and the Orcs were competing for third.
Over near the back, Lord Rigdam was supervising while apparently settling a dispute.
“Look, that black bear pelt was mine. It was my favorite. There’s no way I could be mistaken.”
“Then why was it on my side of the wagon, huh? Are you an idiot?”
“What, so you own half the wagon now? Besides, of course I put it with my things. It must have shifted during the journey.”
“With that much friction, you expect it to slide uphill onto my pile?”
“Excuse me,” Lord Rigdam interrupted tenderly. “Let me see if I understand what the problem is. So, both of you brought a black bear pelt with you, and only one has been found, is that it? Or is the dispute over who owns this specific black bear pelt?”
“Well, I’m more concerned with the first one,” the accusing Orc pondered. “As long as I get a black bear pelt to replace the missing one, I'll be satisfied.”
“I see. Why not settle this with a match? You each offer a pelt of similar size, and the winner can take both.”
“There is a nice boar pelt in your pile I was looking at,” the accused Orc grinned. “I wouldn't mind just trading you for it.”
“Really?” the accusing Orc jumped. “Deal! I don't like the smell of boar anyway.”
“So you’ve settled it?” Rigdam asked calmly.
“Yeah, thanks Lord Rigdam.”
The two Orcs ran off to finish the trade, and Rigdam watched the people playing with his spear.
“Lord Rigdam,” is it? I don't remember doing anything to earn such a title.
They were at war, yet the space within the city walls couldn't be any more peaceful. There were no lessons, and the farming and hunting were taken care of. All there was to do was butcher whatever meat came in and play games to keep from getting too bored. Even the construction of the city was to be handled by the chief. The quiet days made small disputes stand out more, so Rigdam took it upon himself to mediate while his daughter was absent.
They need something besides games to occupy themselves. The tribe’s sense of unity will be lost when that shallow enjoyment fades. What sort of job can these people do to make them feel useful?
Rigdam took his time to steadily think about it while the champions of the game were decided. At the end, before the decision could be made to begin a new round or not, he called out with an even tone.
“So, if anyone’s tired of playing, our firewood is starting to run low.”
The people who wanted to participate were split into groups. There were those who would cut down the trees; there was a long line of people to pass the trees back into the city; there were people in the city trimming the branches, segmenting the logs, and chopping them into firewood; and there were people transporting the firewood to the existing pile. There might have been a better or more efficient way to complete the task, but Rigdam was more concerned with involving as many people as possible.
Because the former village chief wholeheartedly believed that when few people knew for sure who their family was, the whole tribe should act like family.
***
Today, another two Fomor villages have been wiped from the earth. There is only one more that can still be considered close to the Expansionist Orc territory. After that, we will have to travel a bit farther to reach our targets.
Now that I'm back, I’d like to resume work on the city, so I guess I'll check in with Balig first.
“Have you looked over the design?”
“I have,” he said while looking slightly guilty. Did he maybe find some problems with my design? No, if there are flaws, there are flaws. I shouldn't take it personally.
“So, what did you think?”
“I found some problems.” So it really was. Alright, I'm ready. “First, the excessively wide streets seem like a waste of space. People and carriages don't need that much room. I don't understand why you've split the streets into wide and thin sections either. You forgot to include a courier office, church, and orphanage. The library is in a spot too easy to access, and I don't understand why you want to cram all of your apothecaries and healers into this medicine hall.”
Medicine hall? Did he mean the hospital? I won't yield on that or the library. The wide streets are good for organizing and mobilizing troops, and they’ll be necessary when automated vehicles are developed. I don't have a problem with them.
The courier's office and the orphanage are important. I'm embarrassed to have forgotten them. As for the church… who would I even dedicate the church to worshipping? I have the Holy attribute, so that would call for a church to one or more of the Gods worshipped by the descendants. Monsters worship the spirits, in a loose sense. Since the Fomors are descended from True Demons, I'm pretty sure they would worship the Lords of Darkness, or at least their creator, Baythes. I would likely need a separate building for each of them.
… I will leave an appropriate space and decide this later.
“So, is there anything else you noticed?” I asked just to be sure.
The Dwarf took up a small pile of tablets, glanced at them, and sighed. “There isn't. I wrote down most of what I know about earth magic for you here.”
Fantastic. I'm expecting a lot from the earth magic a Dwarf practices. I'm also looking forward to learning his letters. “Thank you. I'll give you a new task after I've looked these over. For now, take the rest of the time for yourself.”
Wait a minute. Haven't I just added more things to my to do list without finishing any previous tasks? I guess it wouldn't hurt to practice flying for a few minutes before doing other things.
Because my wings are so wide and are placed in the middle of my body, I've started to wonder if they're more for gliding than actual flight. So, to aid my practice, I've built a stairwell to the top of the wall with earth magic. From there, I should be able to just hop off.
Standing at the top of the twenty foot wall, there’s a breeze that wasn't present at ground level. I can see much farther, and everything below looks tiny. I don't have to worry too much even if I fall. I have
…
…
I feel my extended feathers rustle faintly in the breeze, my feet still planted firmly on the stone wall.
The air is so clear and relaxing. It’s a good day to jump, isn't it?
…
…
Impossible.
I collapse to my knees at the same time as a hot feeling rises up in my chest. My back is soaked with cold sweat and I can't seem to control my breathing or cramping hands. Lowering my head, I weave my fingers over my face to build a sense of security. But even if the panic is calmed, the rage is still there; rage at my own ineptitude.
I'm afraid of heights.